A World Without Muggles
by Eternalscibe41
Summary: Much better description of world inside. How different would a world without muggles be? This is the story of how a young boy rose to prominence after the brutal deaths of his family, fighting oppression constantly. Highly AU, no pairings decided yet.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Just in case no one has noticed that this is fanfiction, meaning that I am a fan and nothing more, I would just like to say that I do not now, nor have I ever, owned Harry Potter. I also in no way make any profit from this whatsoever, apart from my own enjoyment.

A/N: I took the inspiration of the basic plot of this from Braveheart, mixed with the stories of several other legends, myths and movies. It will be highly AU.

Chapter 1

On a place known as Earth, there reside two different communities within the human race; magical and non-magical, or the mundane. Despite their name, the mundane population are responsible for many of the great achievements in our history, the French revolution, the industrial revolution, the progression of science, of philosophy, of ethics, among many others.

Without the mundane race, known by the derogatory nickname of muggles, the world would be much less advanced, still in what is now known as the Dark Age, after the fall of the Roman Empire, as the Age of Enlightenment was orchestrated by the non-magical population of our race, who remain, by and large, ignorant of their more gifted counterparts. We would still be in a time in which the man with the greatest sword ruled the lands, we would still be in a time when might made right, and we would still be in a time when there were no civil liberties for the ordinary people. We would still be in a time when military men were able to carve out huge empires for themselves, like Alexander and Phillip of Macedon, like Xerses, like the Khans, and so many others.

But, I ask the question, what would happen if this was our time, what would happen if the non-magical population had been destroyed before they rose to prominence, what would happen if they were cut down, before they could grow? What would happen if the muggle race was gone, and all that remained alive on Earth were the animals, and wizards?

This story is held in such a time, when people such as Grindelwald, Riddle and Dumbledore have split up most of the world amongst themselves, and war with each other, attempting to gain some advantage with which they can rule this world. Grindelwald controls all of Eastern Europe and much of Asia, from the borders of what was once known as China to the eastern border of Prussia, however many parts of "minor Asia" remained free from his control. Riddle had taken much of Western Europe, from Spain across to the eastern border of Prussia, an area where many skirmishes took place. Riddle had also managed to expand his influence into the Northern parts of Africa. Dumbledore, the slightly more liberal dictator of the trio controls northern France and Britain, as well as the Northern parts of Scandinavia, a much smaller Empire than the other two, but one made up of far stronger warriors and wizards, their people hardened by the preceding years, their magical strength the legacy of Merlin.

In this world, a boy upon the cusp of manhood awakes from a sleep filled with dreams of joy, and happiness, to a world of hatred and oppression. Harry Potter woke slowly, his awareness of the waking world slowing increasing as the painting on the wall above him came into greater focus. Smiling, Harry looked up at the painting, thinking back to the glorious day it had been based on. He, his mother and father, and some of their friends, such as the Lupins and the Abbots, had spent a day in the nearby river, swimming and basking in the sunlight. The painting was the perfect capture of a moment when he and his dad had swam towards his mum who had been sunbathing beside the river, and splashed her as the Lupins and the Abbots looked on laughing. One of the Abbots was in much greater focus than the others, Hannah's face was clearly detailed, right down to her blue eyes, button nose and freckled face, perfectly framed by her curly blonde hair. Harry smiled, less than a year ago; he had worked up the courage to ask John Abbot, Hannah's father, for the right to court his daughter. To the delight of both children, he had granted that right, and now, not even a year later, Harry was preparing to ask John for permission to marry his daughter.

Harry smiled, although he knew John would say yes, and the betrothal would be blessed by Hannah's mother, Sarah, he felt better knowing he would be abiding by tradition. If all went well, within 6 months, after his and Hannah's 17th birthdays had come and gone, they would build their own home, and he would carry her across the boundary as his wife. Hearing his dad calling for him, he realised the time for dreaming of the future wasn't now; there was work to be done. Harry climbed out of bed, and looked around his room. Although it wasn't luxurious by any standards, it was his, and he was proud of it. The wall was completely covered with pictures, paintings and murals of his life with his friends, all reminders and momento's of truly great days in his life. On the bedside cabinet was his wand which although, chipped and dull, was serviceable and had originally belonged to Harry's grandfather, Charles, but as wands cost a small fortune, Harry had decided to use it instead of getting a new one, mostly due to the fact that Harry's magic had reacted to it. Beside it was a small journal in which Harry was improving his literary skills, something not many people had, at least not many in his social position, but his father insisted on it.

Harry stood and stretched himself, trying to work out any kinks in his body that may have appeared during his sleep. Catching his reflection in the window, he surveyed himself. He was about 5 foot 8, maybe 9 and was still hopeful about the possibility of another growth spurt. Potter men were notorious for being late bloomers, at least according to his dad. He had the wild, untameable, jet black hair that was common among the Potters, and it refused to lie flat, but stuck up in tufts. His emerald green eyes sparkled, and detracted attention from his thin face. He was thin, not scrawny though, just slightly underweight, with a slim build. Harry was proud to note he didn't have an ounce of fat, it was all muscle. "All in all," thought Harry, "I'm fairly attractive." Then he snorted, "Now is not the time to feed my ego, not with such a big order from the Black family"

Although Harry's family had originally been Potters, hence their name, they had evolved from that into being craftsmen, more specifically cabinet and furniture makers. Despite the use of magic, there was no way in which anyone could permanently transfigure or conjure anything, hence the need for furniture and such to be made without magic. This meant getting up early, and working late, using all means necessary to build the fancy dining tables wanted by the nobles such as the Black family, or the Malfoy family.

Of course, Harry and his family didn't exactly sell the furniture directly to them; instead a family in London took the orders from the Noble families for them, and sent them the orders to fulfil. When Harry and his dad had finished whatever the order was, they sent it back to the Bones who sold it on to the Noble families. Unfortunately, with the renewed war between Dumbledore and Grindelwald, business was slower than normal, and even with the battle being mainly fought in and around Arhus, they only had the Black and Boot contracts to fulfil for the next month or two as most of the Nobility were cutting back spending due to increased taxes, as well as the fact that many of their youth had left to lead the armies. There was even talk that Dumbledore was planning to form a temporary coalition with Riddle to drive Grindelwald back from Prussia and as far away from Europe as possible. This would be a great opportunity for the Potters to make their name known on an international scale.

"Harry, come down and get breakfast quickly before you start helping your dad that is if you want to see Hannah at all today." That would be Lily Potter, Harry's mum, shouting up the stairs at Harry, obviously realising Harry was in another of his dreams again.

"Coming mum!" shouted Harry as he grabbed his wand and used a switching spell to get changed quickly. Smelling freshly poached eggs, Harry smiled and began to rush downstairs to begin wolfing down his breakfast.

"Your dad says that we need more wood for Black's order, he says that he'll start working on that order from the Boots and he wants you to go into the forest and get some more yew wood, enough for at least 30 chairs."

"But that'll take ages." whined Harry, but he was quickly silenced when his mum simply glared at him.

"And remember, no poaching. You almost got caught last time, but on the plus side, your dad says that's all you have to do today." his mum reprimanded, causing Harry to remember the last time he had went hunting in the forest, he had been very proud of his catch, a full grown stag, but the Finnegan's, who ruled the portion of Southern Ireland in which the Potters lived on the Emperor's commands, had almost caught him. Technically, the forest belonged to the Finnegan's, but still, they always had enough food, sometimes the Potters went without so that the Finnegan's could have slightly better quality venison. Alas, that was the way of the world, thought Harry as he mentally congratulated himself for using the word "Alas" correctly.

"Yes, mum. I promise. I'll be back later." Standing up, he hugged his mum who would be going down to work on the Lupin's farm later that day. The local community was poor, almost decrepit, and small, but they worked together, even if there were only the Potters, Lupins, Abbotts, Lovegoods and the O'Neills. Surprisingly, the Potters were the richest family in the town, a perk of being an only child, thought Harry, but that wasn't a great boast, even we struggle to get by every year, and more war means more taxes, which means Harry might not get his threadbare jerkin replaced this summer. Mentally, Harry chided himself, war meant people would die and he was worried about not getting a new jerkin.

As Harry walked through the village he lived in, he looked around, waving at Hannah and his friend Thomas Lupin as he walked towards the forest. "Are you coming over tonight?" called Hannah.

"Of course." replied Harry, "I just have to get some yew for an order then I'm off." Hannah smiled at him, her cute face simply lighting up as a side effect, causing Harry to stumble slightly.

Thomas snorted. "Bit clumsy today, aren't you?" Harry glared in response and Thomas held his hands up apologetically. "Sorry, obviously it's too early in the morning for you to properly enjoy my presence." Despite himself, Harry laughed. Thomas always had that effect. He was short, but stocky with short, spiky black hair and light blue eyes that sparkled with mischief.

"I'll see you later." Harry called as he walked past. Thomas nodded before turning back to his work, it was his family's week for working on the Finnegan's farm, and their surveyors didn't take too well to people "slacking off." Hannah skipped past him as she headed down to her farm, carrying a bucket of water as she went.

Harry walked quickly to the nearby forest, before unlimbering himself to prepare for the long trek through the forest. The yew trees were about two or three hours walk into the forest, but if Harry pressed himself, he could cut off close to an hour off his total journey. Harry jogged through the forest with the comforting weight of his wand lying against his arm in his holster; there were some pretty big animals in here. Thomas had even boasted about seeing a hippogriff, and had had the audacity to claim that he had flown on its back.

SNAP

Harry stopped and turned in the direction of the noise, drawing his wand as he did so. "Who goes there? You're trespassing on restricted land." As he spoke, he hoped his dad had renewed their permit to fell trees in Finnegan forest and that this wasn't some officer coming to drag him off the premises. Another snap put Harry on edge, and he twisted again, looking for the source of the noise. A movement above him caught his attention, and he cast his gaze skyward, wondering what manner of beast he was facing. Another snap made him turn completely; spinning around in an effort to find what was making the noises. What he saw made him stop with a start. A glowing white unicorn had appeared, and was surveying him. It was a rather odd location for a unicorn to be, a slightly creepy, eerie forest that made weird noises when the wind whistled through it, as opposed to fresh green pastures like the stories said. The unicorn approached him slowly, making Harry gulp nervously. Harry had heard tales of people being gored by a unicorn's horn, and he wasn't eager to become another fireside story. With every step the unicorn took, Harry got more and more nervous until finally the unicorn stopped mere centimetres away, surveying him. As Harry looked into the unicorn's black, reflective eyes, he felt that he was being judged, and he had the feeling that this was a test that he would fail. Then the unicorn's head moved sharply, horn touching his skin. Instinctively, Harry winced; preparing himself for the inevitable pain, before realising the unicorn had barely pierced his skin, and was now rubbing its head against Harry's arm.

Incredulously, Harry began to rub the unicorn's neck, all the while thinking, "Thomas will never believe this." Suddenly, the unicorn turned and ran, leaving a very startled Harry behind watching the majestic white unicorn run into the distance. Harry smiled, and turned back to his path and began to run forward, absentmindedly spotting a nearby raven. Thinking to himself, "That must have been the movement I saw." he continued on his path to the yew trees. Finally, he reached the trees, and pulled out his wand, preparing his magic for the arduous task of cutting down an appropriate tree. Slowly, but precisely, he began to cast some quick charms to see which of the surrounding trees had the proper width, size and strength to be suitable for his purposes. Finally, he found several such trees, and moved to the one that would have the least impact on its surrounding ecosystem, before making liberal use of the Greek spell his father had shown him, "κομμένα."

Several hours later, Harry was exiting the forest, dragging a large yew tree behind him. He looked up, and saw smoke. Fearing the worst, Harry began to run towards the village he'd grown up in.

He reached it in record time, and immediately wished he hadn't as he surveyed the destruction. His house was completely destroyed, the room with all the paintings he was so proud of, gone, as was his father's workshop. They were completely razed to the ground. As he turned, he noticed the destruction was not limited to his family, but was instead, widespread. The Abbotts house was gone to, as was the O'Neills, the Lupin's and the Lovegood's. Their farms were also burnt, and as Harry looked around, he realised that it would be a long time before anything grew here again. He soon shook himself, and began to run through the various houses, trying to find anyone living, all the while calling out names, "Mr Abbott, Hannah, Thomas, Mum, Dad, Mr O'Neill, James, Seamus, Luna, anyone." As he ran through the remains of his house, he realised that there was nothing salvageable whatsoever, all the food and furniture and family heirlooms, destroyed. "But that could be replaced, family couldn't." thought Harry as he ran to his father's workshop. He saw his father's ruined, mangled 6 foot body lying, sprawled across the ground beside his workshop. Not allowing himself to begin to cry, he turned and ran through the remains of the other houses, and their farms, growing more and more depressed each time as he saw more and more dead friends.

He saw Hannah's body, obviously raped and beaten before her death, her father lying beside her, having obviously tried to protect her. He saw his dad's friend, Remus Lupin, lying dead, his once wise eyes now blank and expressionless as his soul fell into death's embrace, most likely at the same time as his wife, whose body rested beside him., he saw Thomas dead, the entire O'Neill family, dead, all of them, Patrick, Sinead, James, Seamus, even little Bronagh. He saw Oddment Lovegood lying dead beside his daughter Luna. As Harry looked at her body, he realised he would never see the somewhat spacey blonde girl giggle as she skipped through the village. Finally, he walked through the Lupin farm and on to the farm that produced the Finnegan's , and saw his mother, her fiery red hair spread out around her head as she lay on the ground, having obviously suffered the same as Hannah. Harry knelt and closed her eyes as he realised he would never be woken by her singing in the morning, never taste her cooking again, never see her smile at him anymore. As these thoughts flew through his mind, he realised that he would never again learn magic at his father's knees, he realised he would have no more stolen kisses from Hannah, no more pranks with Thomas, or discussions with Remus. He would never talk with the Lovegood's again and try to learn more about their rather odd view of life. He would never have another of Sinead O'Neills homemade pies, or see little Susan grow into the beautiful woman everyone knew she would become. As the weight of these realisations fell upon him, he fell to his knees beside his mother's body, and screamed. It was a hair-raising scream, imbued with magic and emotion, causing all who heard it to know that someone would pay.

It also allowed three people across the globe, all in tune with the forces of magic, to know that Lady Magic had just introduced a new player into their game.

**Please review and tell me what you think and if it could be a good story. Updates will be sporadic, this is just a side story that I'll write while looking for inspiration for my other stories.**


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Just in case no one has noticed that this is fanfiction (ergo I am a fan and do not own Harry Potter), I should probably give a disclaimer; I do not now, nor have I ever, owned Harry Potter nor am I likely to do so.

Chapter 2

Harry did not know how long he knelt beside his mother, he did not know how long he screamed his hatred and anger at a world which had stolen his family and his friends from him, but one thing he did know; no matter how long it would take, and no matter how hard it was, he would have his revenge on the people who did this.

He knelt beside the woman who brought him into this world, painstakingly memorising every last detail of her face, down to the very freckles that adorned her cheeks, and so he did not notice the men who were slowly approaching from behind him. He did, however, notice when one of the men tapped him on the shoulder, said tap being accompanied by a voice. A rather irritating voice, thought Harry, as he attempted to process what the man was saying to him.

"Did you live here?" asked the man, and Harry could not bring himself to respond, the gravity of the situation hitting him all the more when the man referred to his home in the past tense. The man spoke again, "Did you live here?"

Finally, Harry answered the incessant voice, barely breathing a reply, "Yes." As he spoke, Harry absentmindedly noticed his voice was calm and completely devoid of emotion, a vast contrast from the turmoil of emotions that was playing havoc inside Harry's mind, oddly though, Harry could not muster the energy to care.

"Who are you?" asked the man and Harry noticed the man's voice was empty of compassion, but the lethargy that sapped at his energy did not allow him to care, but nonetheless, Harry responded.

"Harry Potter." As completely enraptured as he was with memorising his mother's face, he did not notice the man retreat, nor did he notice that the conversation had ended. He also did not notice as the same man came back mere minutes later, and with a whispered, "Stupefy," cast a red light from his wand that struck Harry in the back, causing his mother's beautiful face to be whisked away from his view as his vision slowly succumbed to darkness, his body falling to the ground as the spell took effect.

Sluggishly, Harry began to regain consciousness, and he pulled himself up to a sitting position, his mind already running through all that needed doing that day, "Well, Dad will almost certainly need help in filling that order from the Blacks. We need to have it sent away soon, and maybe Hannah and I could get a little _"alone"_ time…" The thought of Hannah brought his mind back to the events of the day before or earlier that day, he wasn't sure, and he felt a pain in his chest unlike anything else he had ever felt before. It was almost as though there was a hand reaching into his chest, grabbing his heart and twisting it. At the same time as this incredible pressure, he also felt as though there was a hole inside him, that there was something missing, almost as if he had been tied to something, and the rope had been taut, but now was slack because there was nothing pulling on the other end. It was a horrible, gut-wrenching pain, and he expressed it in a grief-stricken keening that made those around him turn.

It was so filled with pain and sorrow that the minds of all who heard it immediately turned to all those that they had lost. One man quickly moved to Harry's side, and began to pat and rub his back in a comforting manner, attempting to offer some solace to the young man. Harry grabbed on to the source of comfort, clutching to the man's cloak, burying his head in it as tears began streaming down his face, his scream of pain muffled by the fabric of the cloak. The man reacted well, and held the boy to him as a father would, hating the fact that one so young should suffer so much. Harry held the man who was his only source of comfort, and although the embrace was a fatherly one, Harry could not help but remember his father who had always smelt faintly of pine, wood and grass, and so the embrace offered little comfort to his mournful heart.

Still, Harry slowly managed to recover himself to the extent that his eyes were no longer welling up with tears, and wistfully pulled himself away from the man. The man looked down at the boy who had just used his cloak as a makeshift handkerchief, his red, puffy eyes gazing up at him, his cheeks still wet, and lip still quivering due to his sorrow, and felt pity. Harry looked up at the man who had attempted to help him in his heartache, the man's blue eyes looking down at him, mouth open slightly as though to offer some platitude, and felt grateful.

"Thank you," Muttered Harry, his throat surprisingly sore after his cry.

The man only smiled in response before standing up and stepping back so Harry could see his surroundings. Harry cast his gaze around himself, realising they were in a cart travelling through some unknown forest with maybe a dozen men surrounding it on horseback, with another two in cart with him and the man who had comforted him, and, belatedly, he realised these men could be the people who had killed his family. As this realisation struck him, he leapt to his feet, hand already moving to pull his wand from his holster, but before he could even unleash a single spell, the man in front of him had stepped forward and grabbed Harry's wrist, preventing him from causing any damage.

Then the man spoke, a strong Irish accent shining through. "I am Captain Murphy. I am one of the guards in the employ of the Finnegan's, upon whose land you and your family lived. You have nothing to be afraid of."

"Then who killed my…" Harry's voice cut off midway through his sentence as his throat seemed to close over at the mention of his family and friend's death, but Captain Murphy understood the question anyway, and sought to answer.

"We believe it to have been raiders sent by Grindelwald. Two of my men have followed their tracks, but they have most likely already returned to their boats and left."

Harry frowned, "There aren't any ports within several hours walk of my home."

Captain Murphy smiled kindly at him, "That is true, however, you have already been asleep several hours, not to mention the raiders used horses and so were mostly likely away by the time we were even aware of the attack. Speaking of which, why were you unharmed?"

Harry struggled to answer, "My F-father was a carpenter, I was going for wood when the attack happened and when I returned, I saw the smoke. Why… why would they attack my home?"

"Grindelwald's men have been attacking and destroying towns up and down the coastlines, in the mainland as well as here in Ireland, however, they have rarely ventured as far inland as they did earlier today. We are headed to Finnegan Castle, we were sent to offer what aid we could, and if the situation were dire, return with as many survivors as possible, or if there none, simply pursue the attackers. I am glad we found you."

Harry did not know how to respond, nor did he particularly care. The gaping wound inside his chest demanded attention, so he simply nodded at the Captain, and rolled over onto his head, and curled up into a foetal position.

* * *

_"Harry!" The cry came from Hannah, clad in only her underclothes, which at any other time would have been scandalous, however, all the 5 families who lived in the same hamlet had come down to the lake for a fun day out. "Come, join us!" She shouted again from where she floated beside her mum, Jane._

_Harry couldn't help but smile at the obvious glee on her face, and left his place sunbathing beside his mother and father to cannonball into the lake, deliberately splashing her, much to chagrin. She quickly took revenge, however, and splashed him in the face. As he rubbed the water from his eyes, he was unable to see Thomas approaching him from behind to dunk him underwater. Spluttering, Harry emerged from beneath the water, before spinning around. "Thomas Jordan Lupin!" He shouted in mock anger. "Come here and take your punishment like a man."_

_It didn't look like Thomas had any intention on acting like a man, and had attempted to flee away to hide behind his dad, who promptly winked mischievously at Harry, before dunking Thomas in return, laughing all the while._

_Thomas soon emerged to the view of everyone laughing at his misfortune, he also saw Harry still approaching him grinning. "Oh, come on." Thomas pleaded, "Dad already got me back."_

"_But I didn't." smirked Harry, before he leapt at Thomas and began wrestling with him in an attempt to force him underwater. Unfortunately for Harry, his single-minded approach to this left him unawares to a spell striking him in the side, lifting him upside down into the air above the lake. Twisting and turning, he spotted his dad grinning at him from the lakeside, wand in hand and pointed at Harry. "Let me down." Harry shouted to him, before realising just what was about to happen. "No!" Harry shouted in anticipation of what was about to happen._

_His dad smirked gleefully at him, before making a quick wand motion, causing Harry's defiance of gravity to end, leading to Harry falling the half dozen feet into the lake, limbs flailing in an attempt to right himself so he wouldn't fall head first. Alas, his frantic attempts failed, and he hit the water with a massive splash._

_This time, it was Harry's turn for everyone to laugh at his misfortune; however this laughter quickly ended when Harry did not emerge from underwater, and instead, where he had fallen, only bubbles rose. "Harry?" Called James before shouting again, this time much more frantically, with a note of panic in his voice, "Harry!" Instantly, James' mind leapt to the worst possibilities imaginable, "What if he hurt his neck when he fell? Oh no, what if he's unconscious?"_

_As his mind reached these conclusions, his body leapt into action and he dove into the water, swimming quickly to where he thought Harry was, before diving under the water. Unable to see anything, he rose above the water to see everyone else also looking in the water for Harry. As their collective panic rose, they heard a cackling from lakeside, and turned to see Harry holding James' discarded wand. "Payback!" shouted Harry, before quickly casting a few spells at the water, causing ever-increasing waves to buffet the swimmers._

_After a dozen or so seconds of this, the waves subsided, and everyone immediately turned to Harry who was doubled over in laughter at them. He quickly sobered up, however, when everyone moved towards him__, a glint of murder in their eyes__, and he swiftly turned and fled._

* * *

Upon remembering this happy memory from less than a year ago, Harry's grief, momentarily abated by the recollection, returned anew, and he wept.

* * *

_Harry stood in the living room of his house, a place generally filled with laughter and joy, a stark difference to what he was experiencing now. His last remaining grandparent, Connor, had died. Connor had been the oldest person in the hamlet by a considerable margin, some 15 summers, and his age had finally caught up with him, and Harry did not know how to act. His parents, normally so indomitable, had succumbed to their grief and remained largely unable to sleep._

_Harry himself had been unable to approach the coffin where his grandfather's body remained uncovered, but with the funeral coming the next day, this would be his last chance to see his grandfather's face, and so he stood in the doorway of the room of his grandfather's current resting place. Remus appeared behind him and put a kindly hand on his shoulder, "Would you like to say goodbye?" asked the venerable man who was practically Harry's uncle._

_Harry nodded in response, and Remus slowly guided him to the coffin. Harry gazed down at Connor's face, laugh lines evident around his eyes, now respectfully closed. It did not look like Connor as his smile, normally a constant fixture on his face, was now gone, and left his face looking alien to Harry's young mind. Still, his face seemed peaceful, and his hands clasped around his wand, no one else had been able to force any response from the 11 inches of unyielding oak, and so he would be buried with it, in the fashion of the nobles._

_At that moment, Harry recalled a single line from a story Connor had once told him, "A man, royal, not in blood, but in character, in bearing, in action and in thought."_

_It was not until Remus spoke that Harry realised he had spoken aloud, "I suppose that describes him better than anything else. Harry, let me tell you this, if you act according to that adage, if that is how you live your life, if that is how you die, then that is a life worth living, no matter the cost, or the consequences. That is how your grandfather lived, and he was the best man I ever knew."_

* * *

Harry was taken from his reminiscences at a particularly rough jolt to the cart. He forced himself to sit up straight, and looked around him. They had just arrived at Shane's Castle, the home of the Finnegan's. Harry's head turned off its own accord, gazing around him to take in the small town outside the keep. There were a number of peasant's bartering at the market, and the smell of salt was prevalent in the air, a side-effect of being at a port.

There were maybe 3 or 4 score houses in the town, making it the largest place Harry had ever been. Harry and his family only went to the smaller markets closer to where they lived, not wanting to make the day trip up to Shane's Castle. "It's big, isn't it?" The query came from behind Harry, and he twisted to see Captain Murphy smiling kindly at him. "I remember when I first came here. I had lived in a small hamlet two days journey from here, not unlike what yours was like. I was the youngest of six sons and there was no room for me at the family farm, so I came here to try and make a living. I was lucky enough to be taken from a life of brawling to become a guard. For me, this place is home and I love, even if there are bigger towns on the mainland."

Harry nodded in agreement, "It's certainly impressive."

The rest of the short journey passed in silence as Captain Murphy allowed Harry to take in the sights of the town. However, too quickly for Harry's liking, they passed through the gates of the castle, and Harry was forced to leave the cart. Captain Murphy strode beside him and began to guide him into the castle, and together, they walked into the greeting hall. Harry absently noted the marble floor, the polished yew furniture and the opulent decorations that were tastefully scattered throughout the room. His gawking did not go unnoticed, but were interrupted when Captain Murphy stopped his movement, before taking a step forward. "Milord, this is the lone survivor of the attack."

Harry looked forward, and his eyes took in the elder Finnegan's upon their twin thrones; and his avid eyes took in Shane first, the man was perhaps a shade less than 6 feet tall, and was very corpulent, with rolls of fat obvious across his body, the result of a good, perhaps too good, diet. His oily face was streaked with sweat despite it being a brisk spring day, and his eyes bore a look of impatience. He bore little resemblance to the hero his father had told him about, the man who had conquered this area of land some 50 summers ago.

His scrutiny turned next to Aideen, Shane's wife, and he saw a woman well past her prime, and more than a little plump. Her eyes were kind though, and there were creases beside them that bespoke of a laughing soul. Her eyes glittered with compassion as she took in the young man before her, his face showing evidence of the emotional turmoil that bubbled beneath the surface, his emerald eyes sparkling with grief.

Aideen spoke first, her voice a musical lilt that caused a motherly feeling to crash over Harry, "Oh, you poor thing! Shane, we must give him a room."

Shane grunted, before wiping his face with a silk handkerchief, "We must do no such thing." He spoke curtly, before a glare from his wife caught his eye, and he conceded, "Out of the goodness of my heart, however, I will allow you to stay with the kitchen staff until we decide on the appropriate method on how to… deal with you." His voice, so unlike his wife's kindly one, was coarse, and filled with disgust at the dirty, red-faced young vagabond who had appeared in front of them.

Harry took no notice of the disgust in his voice, but instead followed Captain Murphy who whispered to him, "I'll show you were you can sleep." The man also handed Harry his wand holster and wand, before giving the young man a hand in strapping in to his wrist.

A/N: Hey, I'm back, finally. And no, it did not take me almost a year to recover from a broken arm, it actually healed last September, but I had to undergo physical therapy as my arm muscles had atrophied into nothingness. Add to that that I read all my stories, and was dismayed by the low quality of writing many of them had, and its, hopefully, somewhat understandable why it's taken me this long to come back to writing. I've decided to focus on this story, because I think it's my best one, however, I am currently writing an original novel that I will try to publish, so updates for this may be sporadic. If any of my readers could spare the few minutes to drop me a review, or take part in my poll, that would be great. Thanks. Also, I find myself very bad at coming up with new names, so if anyone could also send me a few, that would be much appreciated.


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